


Just Enough Rope

by dark_def (dedicatedfollower467)



Series: Smells Like Belonging [3]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Child Abuse, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Choking, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dehydration, Depersonalization, Don't Like Don't Read, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Sexual Content, Fainting, Gaslighting, Hurt No Comfort, Incest, Knotting, M/M, Masturbation, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Near Death, Oral Knotting, Oral Sex, POV Second Person, Parent/Child Incest, Psychological Torture, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Fantasy, Sibling Incest, Starvation, Suicidal Thoughts, Torture, Trauma, Victim Blaming, Vomiting, hmmm am i missing anything?, it's basically torture anyway so that's what i'm tagging it as, mentions of urine/piss kink, suffocation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:00:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22310683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dedicatedfollower467/pseuds/dark_def
Summary: Sometimes, Dave really wishes John was his Alpha.John wouldn't lock him in his bedroom while he was sitting outside the doorin the middle of his fucking rutin order to punish Dave for his disobedience.There's a lot of things John wouldn't do.
Relationships: Dave's Bro | Beta Dirk Strider/Dave Strider, onesided John Egbert/Dave Strider
Series: Smells Like Belonging [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1592716
Comments: 8
Kudos: 82





	Just Enough Rope

**Author's Note:**

> yay, more fucked-up fic in this incredibly fucked-up AU!
> 
> this fic basically tells you exactly what it means to be bonded to someone in this universe. here's a hint: it's really not good!
> 
> all the previous "this is super dark and fucked up" stuff from the last couple of fics applies, along with a couple of added warnings, such as "Dave literally nearly dies at multiple times in this fic, and is actually kinda okay with it most of those times," "Dave fantasizes about his crush on John while getting raped as a form of escapism," and also, "Dave vomits, and Bro kinda gets off on it." there's also two brief mentions of some past watersports/piss kink, but it's not explicit. plus, guess who managed to turn "verbally giving explicit quote-unquote 'consent'" into an abuse and manipulation tactic? if you guessed bro, you'd be correct!
> 
> i hope you all enjoy it!

Sometimes, you wish John was your Alpha, instead of your Bro.

John wouldn’t have taken you out of school because the teachers might smell his scent on your skin and interfere with your bond. John wouldn’t stop you from going out alone, wouldn’t keep you confined in the apartment. John wouldn’t have put his bond mark on you, and then never let you mark him in return.

John wouldn’t lock you inside your room, while he’s on the other side of the door _going through his fucking rut_ , expressly in order to punish you for your disobedience.

You sprawl on the floor, body pressed up against the door of your bedroom, clawing helplessly at the wood as if your puny fingers will be able to break through to let you in to your Alpha. You are naked, sitting in a puddle of your own slick, which has been leaking continuously from your ass for hours, ever since your sympathetic heat kicked in. Your bond mark is throbbing - your mating glands are swollen to the size of oranges on either side of your neck, and touching them yourself or even tilting your head too far brings you pure agony.

“Please, Bro,” you whine, your voice hoarse from the hours you have been repeating this plea, over and over. “I’m sorry, I’ll never do it again, please just let me in, I’ll do anything.”

Through the door, you can hear and smell your Bro. He smells like sex and arousal, his normal scent of new leather and motor oil and methol cigarrettes intensifying and covered with the heavy Alpha musk of his rut. You can hear the sound of his hand moving up and down on his dick, the ancient springs of the futon squeaking, the little grunts and moans of pleasure as he masturbates.

The problem is, you’re bonded to him. He is your Alpha. When you’re in heat, you crave his scent, his presence, his knot in your ass, with a burning fire. When he goes into rut, you go into sympathetic heat, and crave those things even worse. You’re like a junkie trying to get his next fix, except instead of a needle full of heroin you need a cock full of come.

Bro moans long and loud, the futon strains and creaks in protest, and the intense smell of Alpha semen hits your nose and almost makes you gag. Which means he’s just come _again,_ without you, probably has both hands clenched tight around his knot to simulate pussy walls.

You’re bonded to your Bro, have been since your very first heat. But he’s not bonded to you, which means even though _your_ body is craving his so hard that you’ve got the shakes, he couldn’t give less of a crap about whether you exist or not.

Tears fill your eyes for probably the millionth time since this rut started, spill down your cheeks. You feel dizzy and weak - your legs haven’t been able to support your weight for hours now. Your body is _so_ confused over why you aren’t fucking your bonded mate right this minute, and is subjecting you to this as punishment for the delay. Overwhelmed, you bury your face in your hands and sob as you listen to your Bro sigh loudly in blissed-out enjoyment of his orgasm, just to spite you.

You don’t even remember why Bro is punishing you with your own body this way, what horrible crime you committed to make him do this to you. It has to have been something awful, because sitting here in heat while he’s rutting and being _unable to touch him_ is agonizing.

After a while, you stop thinking entirely. You are nothing but need, a drive to get close to your mate, a hollow space which needs to be filled with your Alpha’s knot. You babble incoherent pleas, cry, scratch at your door - and drift. You can’t even see anything - a sensation you’ve gotten used to, through desperate heats like this where your Bro won’t come to you. Nothing exists but the feel of the wood against your cheek and the smell and sound of your Bro on the other side of the door.

It might be days that you sit there. You pass out several times, and when you’re awake and aware, you are exhausted and shaky from dehydration. At one point, as your eyes start to slide closed, you realize that you could legitimately die. The thought doesn’t even bother you - death would be preferable to this.

When you wake up next, the smell of your Bro’s rut is fading, and you’ve stopped producing slick, which means your heat is over. It’s actually kind of surprising that Bro really forced you to sit out his entire rut. You would have expected that at some point he would cave, if only for the satisfaction of wetting his dick in your cunt.

The door to your bedroom is unlocked, now. You are so weak that you have to crawl to the bathroom, where you guzzle water so fast you end up making yourself sick. When you’ve finished heaving bile into the toilet, you go right back to gulping down water, slightly more slowly this time.

Bro doesn’t seem to be in the apartment. You drag yourself back to your room, scarf down a pack of Doritos from your closet, and pass out on your bed.

When you wake up again later, your mouth feels fuzzy and tastes like old toenails. Your stomach doesn’t so much ache from hunger as it has become a hollow inside your body - no longer painful, but only because you’ve gone past pain and come out the other side. You’re still dizzy and weak, and you blink against the red light of the sunset glaring in through your bedroom window. You’re not sure what time it is. You’re not even sure what day of the week it is.

And your mating glands feel like they’re on fire.

You can’t move your head - every slight gesture sends waves of pain shooting up the sides of your neck into your jawline and down across your collarbones to throb in your armpits.

“Bro,” you rasp with your dry mouth, feeling your _tongue_ throb at the movement. “Bro, _please_.”

Your mating glands have been inflamed before - basically whenever you’re in heat and Bro doesn’t help you out in time. When you go into heat, your mating glands need to be licked or scent-marked (or cum on - or even pissed on - any sufficiently hormone-riddled bodily fluid will do) by your Alpha. And when they don’t get that, they swell up and release a stronger scent, to entice him.

The thing is, chronically inflamed mating glands are prone to infection. And mating glands are attached to basically the entire endocrine system, which means an infection in them can spread and fuck up your whole body. A mating gland infection is call for a trip to the hospital. They can be _life-threatening_.

There is no way in hell Bro is ever gonna take you to the hospital.

Sometimes you really wish John was your Alpha, and not Bro.

You don’t know how long you lie there, half out of your mind from the fever and the pain, dehydrated and hungry as hell. Here you are, thirteen years old, and you’re going to die from not getting fucked properly.

Bro appears in the door like he teleported into it - absent one moment and suddenly there the next. You should be used to his flashstepping now, but you flinch anyway. You tell yourself it’s because you’re delirious with fever, even though you flinch every time he does that, whether you’ve got a fever or not.

You think he’s looking at you. It’s impossible to tell with the shades. You wonder if he wonders whether or not you’re going to die. You wonder if he would actually care if you did.

You need to ask him to come to you, to give your aching mating glands what they need. It won’t stop the infection - your body will have to fight that off on its own - but at least they’ll stop the swelling from getting _worse_.

Bro doesn’t ever touch you unless you ask him. He makes you beg him for it. And no matter how much you hate yourself for doing it, you will always beg.

You try to wet your lips, but your mouth is still dry. “Please, Bro,” you rasp again. “I need you.”

Hands in his pockets, he saunters into the room. He angles his head, like he’s looking you up and down, and you don’t know whether you feel more like a cheap whore on display for a lascivious audience or an old knackered horse whose owner is trying to decide whether he can get a few more miles out of it or if it’s time to send it to the glue factory.

“What’s in it for me, then?” Bro says.

You blink. “What?” you ask.

He tilts his head to one side in a gesture that says ‘I knew you were stupid but I didn’t think you were _this_ stupid.’ His disappointment smells like rot.

“You look and smell like a pile of dog shit warmed in a microwave,” he says, which sets you firmly in ‘glue ingredients’ territory. “What’s in it for me if I help you out here?”

There’s only one thing you can offer him.

“I’ll let you fuck me,” you whisper.

Bro snorts. “I can fuck you whenever I want,” he says, like it’s a scientific fact of the universe. A hydrogen atom has one proton, a photon is both a particle and a wave, two plus two equals four, Bro can fuck you whenever he wants. He crosses his arms. “Sweeten the pot, little bro.”

You try to swallow and only make a dry clicking noise in your throat.

There’s really only one thing that’s been off limits since your Bro started fucking you two and a half years ago. He’s fucked you in your cunt and he’s fucked you in your ass, he’s made you give him hand jobs, he’s come on your face and in your hair and on your whole body - he’s even _pissed_ on you. But there’s one thing he’s never asked for, one thing you’ve always got to keep.

Which means you know exactly what he wants now.

“I’ll let you fuck my mouth,” you say, and the words don’t sound like they belong to you.

Bro grins, sharp and predatory. “Let me knot your mouth, and you’ve got a deal.”

You almost tell him to go fuck himself, you’ll suffer through this on your own. You could break your teeth or your jaw or choke to death on his knot if he gets the position wrong. It’s been known to happen before.

But you know, deep down, that if you say no to him now - during his next rut, he’ll do this to you again. He’ll leave you aching and dehydrated almost to the point of death, let your mating glands swell to the size of fucking grapefruits. And then when you’re laying there on your bed, dying, after it’s all over, he’ll come to you again, and he’ll offer the same deal.

“All right,” you say.

He doesn’t bother with an acknowledgement, just strips off his pants and underwear and starts pumping his cock with one hand as he kneels up on the bed and crawls towards you.

If John was your Alpha, you think, as Bro reaches out to position your head, touching the tip of his cock to your lips, he wouldn’t make you suck him off while your throat feels like sandpaper. He’d at least bring you a glass of water, before claiming your mouth.

You have pictures of John. He’s still in that awkward phase in between presenting and putting on his adult muscle mass, so he’s gangly and pimply and he has a pair of god-awful buck teeth that make him look more like a rabbit or a hamster than a human boy.

But he’s tall, and he’s got dark wind-swept hair that never seems to have a bad day, and deep blue eyes that always look like they’re sparkling, and a brilliant grin that lights up his whole face and makes you want to smile, too.

As you desperately work up enough saliva to perform a half-decent blow job and your Bro fists his hand in your hair, you wonder what John’s cock would look like.

It would be smaller than your Bro’s, definitely, because John’s still just a kid, like you, and won’t have grown into his full Alpha proportions yet. You wonder if he’s circumcised, like you and your Bro, or if he’s uncut, foreskin still snug around him.

You open your mouth and your Bro slides his cock between your lips, and you struggle to keep your teeth from grazing him, trying to stick your tongue out and suck and swallow all at the same time. He growls, and you try to pull back, to figure out a different way to do this, but Bro tightens his grip on your hair and pushes you further onto his cock.

John would give you time to explore, you think, deciding not to bother with sucking or porn moves or anything and just opening up as wide as you possibly can to let your brother fuck your mouth at his own pace. If John were your Alpha, he’d let you start with little licks up his cock, and tonguing his slit, give you a few minutes to figure out the size and shape of him before making you take him into your mouth.

You close your eyes and imagine John’s face, eyes hooded, looking down at you, as you suck his cock. You picture the soft, smooth expanse of his belly above you, the broad pecs and the toned arms that are just a hint of the rippling muscles he’ll have one day. You imagine a baby-soft hand, a hand that’s never gripped a sword in its life, gently cupping the back of your head to keep you moving at the pace he sets.

You are ripped out of your fantasy abruptly when Bro slams his cock into the back of your throat and you choke, instinctively trying to pull back, but Bro just grabs you with his other hand and holds you down as you struggle, feeling your gorge rise.

“Swallow, Dave,” he commands. “Come on, swallow me down, I know you can do it.”

You can’t, he’s too big, it would be like swallowing a Coke can, oh god, you’re going to be sick -

“If you puke on my dick I’ll beat your ass so hard you won’t be able to sit down for a week,” Bro snarls.

God, if only you could pull off, even for just one second, but Bro is relentless. If something doesn’t change here you’re gonna fucking choke to death.

You try to swallow, desperately, knowing this is the only thing that can possibly save you, and after a few minutes of sputtering and gagging and trying not to throw up, you finally get his huge cock down your throat.

“Good boy, Davey,” Bro says, and, like it _always_ fucking does, that phrase sends shivers of pleasure through your whole body. “See, I knew you could do it.”

He just kind of holds you there, for a minute, your nose almost touching his pubic hair, and you try to relax, to stop being so damn _aware_ of the massive intrusion in your throat, stop gagging around it every five seconds. The position it’s in puts pressure on your mating glands, which makes your armpits ache.

What would John’s pubic hair look like, you ask yourself, throat pulsing around your brother’s cock. He probably wouldn’t think to trim it or anything like that, it’s probably wild and curly and thick, covers his whole sack, grows all over the place. He probably has a trail leading right up to his belly button. Maybe he even has chest hair.

You can’t focus on the thought of John’s chest hair because you’re running out of air. Weakly, you raise your hands into fists, beat at Bro’s thighs, try to get him to let you pull off, but you don’t expect it to actually work. Bro fucks you at his own pace - he always does.

Finally, when you feel like you’re about to fucking die and black spots are dancing at your vision, Bro pulls back a bit. You cough, spit and pre and something that may or may not be a little bit of stomach acid splattering out on his dick. Desperately, you gasp in the biggest gulp of air you can, because you know he’s not going to give you time to recover, he’s going to thrust right back in.

Sure enough, you don’t have a moment to recover yourself before Bro is slamming in again, the tip of his cock touching the back of your throat and this time you start trying to take him immediately, though you still sputter and gag like a dying animal.

You can’t think about anything else but the dick in your throat and the intense pain of your mating glands. Bro keeps thrusting, both hands held tight in your hair, and every time he pulls back you gasp in as much air as you can because you don’t know how long he’s going to hold you down next time.

His knot is starting to inflate at the base of his dick. You can see it, and you know what’s coming, and you are suddenly a thousand percent certain you won’t be able to do this. Fear courses through you, and you gag again, and this time, you _know_ that was puke that just touched his dick.

Bro pulls you off of him, and the vomit burbles out past your lips, thin and watery with chunky orange bits of mashed up Doritos. You heave and spew it all out over your bed, and the smell and sight of it makes you gag again. 

“You’re cleaning that up,” Bro says, stroking his hand up and down his cock, like watching you barf is a fucking turn-on for him. Tears fill your eyes and you swallow desperately, your throat aching, trying not to throw up again.

“You got all that out your system?” he says, and doesn’t wait for an answer before he says, “Good.” He stands up off of your now-disgusting bed, grabs you by the arm and drags you out to kneel on the floor.

“All right, Davey, it’s showtime.”

He grabs your face and sticks his dick between your lips sideways, like a dog with a bone, or the bit of a horse’s bridle. At first you’re confused, but he thrusts back and forth a few times and then his knot is in your mouth and suddenly your jaw is being forced open as it swells.

Bro grunts and grips your head so tight you feel like your eyes are about to pop out, and then buckets of cum splatter down across your shoulder and neck. The instant relief you feel as it touches your mating glands is almost worth the massive knot between your teeth.

It’s like trying to hold a football with your mouth. Your jaw is forced open wider than you really thought was possible, and your teeth have _got_ to be pressed into his skin, because you have literally zero control of what’s happening with your tongue or lips right now. You start gagging again, half-feeling like you’re choking, but mostly just completely overwhelmed by how incredibly huge this thing in your mouth is. The fact that you can take something this large inside your pussy is practically a fucking miracle.

You can still breathe through your nose if you really force yourself to relax, which you’re incredibly grateful for, because Bro’s knots usually stay inflated for twenty minutes or more.

At least your mating glands aren’t actively trying to kill you anymore. And neither are your armpits, which means that you don’t actually have an infection and you aren’t going to die and you were just being a dramatic bitch about a couple of swollen glands.

Your jaw starts aching after only a few minutes, and knowing that this is going to last even longer brings actual tears to your eyes. To your surprise, as they start running down your cheeks, Bro places a gentle hand on your hair.

“Good boy, Dave,” he says, tilting your head to look up at him, looking down at you with an expression that almost approaches a _smile_ , and stroking his hand soothingly through your hair. “You did so good for me. I think you deserve a little reward.”

And then he moves the tip of his shoe so that it’s pressed just behind the skin of your balls, and starts to rub back and forth.

It’s a tantalizing sensation, and you’re exhausted and your jaw is sore and you feel sticky and terrible all over and there’s a massive headache building in your forehead , but you’re so emotionally raw right now and the praise makes you feel so good and you’ve been so _desperate_ for his touch for so long that you find yourself getting hard.

Bro is gentle as he brushes his foot up and down your dick, the feather-light sensations making you shiver with each movement. He hums, and presses his fingers down lightly on your mating gland, right over your mating mark, and you sigh through your nose and close your eyes, the only reaction you can make right now.

If John were your Alpha, instead of Bro, you think, the position would be different as you were sucking on his knot. Instead of kneeling at his feet he’d have you lie in his lap, or something like that, so that he could put his whole hand around your dick and stroke you off. Or maybe he’d even be able stretch far enough to put a couple fingers up your ass, stroke your clit from the inside. He wouldn’t just give you teasing touches with his shoe and the phantom sense-memory of your mating orgasm.

You kneel there, quivering, the entire time Bro’s knot is inflated, and he touches your dick lightly with his shoe continuously, the whole time. It feels good but it’s not _enough_ , it’s only enough to get you hot and bothered. You’d be begging for more if you could use your mouth to speak. As it is, you whine through your nose instead.

His knot goes down before you get off, and Bro pulls back, stops touching you, puts his dick away and zips up his jeans. You cough, and massage your aching jaw and raw throat.

Bro looks over at your bed, back at you, and then leaves without saying another word.

As soon as the door closes you bend over yourself and grasp your dick, jerking off in hard, fast motions. When that doesn’t feel like enough, you reach back behind yourself with your other hand, spread your knees, and desperately stick your fingers in your pussy, wishing you could get the right angle to stimulate your clit like this.

If John were your Alpha, he’d be sitting right behind you, and he’d be able to get the right angle, and he’d finger you so good you wouldn’t even need to touch your dick, you’d shoot off like a rocketship right away.

With your eyes closed, you can almost imagine that the hand stroking your dick is his, that the fingers massaging the rim of your hole are there. You imagine his delighted laughter, that huge smile, pretend that you can feel the warm puff of his breath against your back.

(The hand on your dick is too calloused and scarred to be John’s, the fingers on your rim too small and at entirely the wrong angle. The breeze against your back is from the open window, not a lovely pair of lips belonging to a handsome boy.)

You gasp as you come, thin white ropes marking up your hand. All told, it’s not a very satisfying orgasm - you couldn’t get the right angles, and oh yeah, you’re weak and dehydrated and fucking starving, and you just threw up everything you’ve eaten or had to drink for god only knows how long. Slowly, you collapse forward, your forehead smashing into the carpet and your cum-covered hand smearing against your belly.

Your throat feels dryer and hoarser than ever, and your whole body aches. Once more, you wonder what awful thing you did that Bro decided to punish you like this. You wish you could remember.

If John was your Alpha, you like to think he’d find some other way to punish you.

It’s a nice thought - they always are.

But you’d be nuts to even _dream_ that a sweet Alpha like John would ever want a weak, dirty, slutty fuck-up of an Omega like you.

**Author's Note:**

> i have, like, fifty million ideas for fics in this au and my fic document is now more than 50 pages long which means i'm probably gonna have to start breaking it up into multiple files, because i genuinely have that much material. unfortunately, i'm kind of writing it all piecemeal at the moment, so things aren't happening in a cohesive or chronological order. i'll continue to add more fics as they get finished, although i also have a pretty specific order i want things to go in, so that's gonna be a factor in which fics are posted when as well.


End file.
